He walked around the dark wooden screen and entered the marble-tiled bathroom. The light behind the screen cast a faint glow over the sharp lines of his figure as he turned away composed, contained, and so distant that one wouldn't dare approach.
I had no intention of following him to "assist the husband in changing clothes" like brides in old aristocratic families. Though Joseph always maintained perfect courtesy, there was still that quiet distance in his eyes, an invisible partition between us. I had no reason to make things awkward for myself.
Clearly, he had no intention of sharing a room with me tonight, and that was for the better. I wasn't ready to step into marital life with a man who was, in truth, almost a stranger.
This was originally his master bedroom anyway. I had only been at Anderson Estate a short time; it felt wrong to occupy a space so familiar to him. So I slipped on the outer robe hanging by the screen and turned into the west corridor, where there was a smaller guest bedroom, quiet, private, though a little colder.
The bed inside was small but soft enough for me. My night vision had always been good; without even lighting a lamp, I could move around easily. I gathered the blanket and pillow, climbed onto the bed, and lay down, listening to the wind seeping past the window like a cold lullaby.
…
Around ten minutes later, Joseph stepped out. There was no sign of Vecna in the master room. The curtains around the large bed swayed gently under the warm yellow light, a soft glow that contrasted sharply with the emptiness of a newlywed couple's space.
He probably assumed she had fallen asleep. And for a wife he barely understood, he couldn't force her to share his bed simply for the sake of propriety. She was the new bride, a part of this household now; he knew he couldn't let her sleep in a cramped, cold room. The master bedroom should belong to her.
With that in mind, Joseph extinguished the outer lights and walked toward the west wing.
…
I was sleeping lightly, so in the silence, the slow, steady footsteps sounded even clearer. I opened my eyes. A tall silhouette approached cautiously, clearly unused to the pitch-black shadows of the smaller room.
There was no mistaking him, Joseph.
I stiffened slightly but immediately understood: we had thought the same thing. Both of us had chosen to sleep here, intending to give up the master bedroom for the other.
As his shadow drew near, I called softly:
"Mr. Anderson."
My voice was cool and crisp, forming an invisible fence between us.
He stopped mid-step. I couldn't see his expression, but I was certain he was caught off guard. This coincidence had unsettled him.
He stood still for a moment, then pulled the chair beside my bed and sat down. The room fell into a gentle, muted silence.
I propped myself up, my gaze brushing the profile of his face in the dark features cut as if from stone, quiet yet commanding. I broke the awkward tension with a simple explanation:
"I slept too much this afternoon and wasn't sleepy. I didn't want to disturb you, so I came here."
We both knew the real reason wasn't that. But a thin, hollow veneer was still necessary for a marriage that had barely begun.
Joseph turned his head slightly, his voice lower and softer than usual:
"This room is colder. Women catch chills easily. You should sleep in the master bedroom."
I shook my head immediately.
"I can sleep anywhere. This small bed is perfectly fine for me. Don't worry about it."
Joseph couldn't allow me to stay here. His tone remained firm, commanding, but not harsh:
"Go back to the master bedroom."
"I think you should return instead."
My voice was cool but not rude simply fair. And silence stretched tight between us like a drawn string.
The only solution… was for both of us to return. But neither wanted to be the one to suggest it first. Joseph raised in privilege, accustomed to being understood without explanation had never had to negotiate something as simple as sleeping arrangements. Authority was second nature to him. Meanwhile, I, a countryside girl was, unexpectedly, not the docile, obedient wife he might have imagined.
If we continued to insist, it would only prove that we viewed each other with disdain. What kind of omen would that be for a marriage just beginning?
At last, as silver moonlight slipped through the window like a soft veil, Joseph broke the silence:
"It's cold here. Let's both return to the master bedroom."
He stood first.
I had no choice but to follow, carrying my blanket back to the main room.
Joseph turned away, stepping behind the screen to unfasten his belt. I climbed directly onto the large bed. There was only one deep red wedding quilt one of the few traditions preserved in this Western-style household. I placed my own blanket on top and said quietly:
"I'll sleep on the inside."
It was the spot most sheltered from the wind and convenient for my husband to get up early without having to step over me.
Joseph accepted this with silence. Once I was settled, he removed his coat, switched off the lights, and got into bed.
Two people. Two blankets. Two separate worlds.
I lay flat on my back out of long habit. He, on the other hand, was probably unused to this bed unused to this room he had never truly slept in. This was the first time he had entered his bridal chamber in the truest sense.
I closed my eyes and listened to his even breathing. I had slept in far colder places on wet grass, in the rattling back of a truck, in my family's old storage shed so this soft bed felt like heaven.
Joseph was different. He was hypersensitive to scents. Even though the butler had changed all the room fragrances to his preferences, the light, clean fragrance from my skin and hair lingered in the air.
I could hear him tossing for a long time. It was nearly midnight before he finally fell asleep.
…
When I opened my eyes, the space beside me was already empty.
I rang the small bell at the headboard. Immediately, a group of maids entered. Normally I never summoned anyone, but today was the tea-offering ceremony; I needed to dress according to noble standards, with proper styling and makeup, so I needed their help.
After washing my face, nanny Maya combed my hair and lifted her brow pencil, but when she looked up, she paused. She had only seen me through layers of heavy clothing these past few days, and my sharp countryside gaze had kept her from observing me closely.
Now, up close, she finally noticed: this girl's beauty was strangely elegant. Not dazzling, not loud, clean, bright, and… unforgettable.
"What kind of makeup did the lady usually wear before this?"
she asked.
I shook my head.
"I've never used makeup."
Maya chuckled softly.
"Then I won't dare add anything unnecessary."
After the light makeup, I had a small breakfast and stepped into the courtyard.
Joseph was standing at the gate with the butler, as if he had been waiting for me. His gaze swept over me, confirming my attire was appropriate, then he gestured for me to follow.
The tea-offering ceremony had already been fully prepared. My Campbell family was poor, without dowry; even the wedding gifts had been items repackaged by the Andersons. They knew this, so their expectations remained low.
Karen was nowhere to be seen. Like a bird freed from its cage since last night, she had vanished who-knows-where.
I walked along the stone path toward the grand courtyard of the Anderson Estate seeing, for the first time since arriving, the full splendor of the place. Snow gleamed on black-tiled roofs; old trees bent under the weight of white blossoms; the wide avenue cut through land vast enough to rival half a district of Marblewick Haven.
A family rooted deep in power.A whole new world.
And me, a girl from the countryside standing squarely in the middle of it all.